Count the Days
by darthvair65
Summary: Roxas counts the days, makes little marks in his notebook to keep track of how long the dead have walked and how long he and Axel have been traveling. Warnings for language, violence and zombies
1. Prologue

Title: Count the Days

Pairing: Axel/Roxas

Warnings: zombies, violence, language, sex, things of a disturbing nature, reckless optimism  
>Rating: MR  
>AN: Primarily inspired by the TV series "The Walking Dead" and the novels _World War Z_ and _The Road. _Also – happy birthday to me, I'm now . . . . 23.  
>Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts, but I do get a kick out of writing for the fandom.<p>

**Summary: **Roxas counts the days, makes little marks in his notebook to keep track of how long the dead have walked and how long he and Axel have been traveling.

Prologue

There is a silence on some roads that would send some into madness; it stretched like some vast, yawning chasm across the landscape, enveloping and devouring all in its path.

The desolation seemed to last an eternity; broad flatlands stretched as far as the eye could see and even beyond peripheral vision. The sun bore down on the already baked earth, heat radiating from the dust and soil and asphalt. There were mountains in the distance, far to the end of the road, beyond their reach by several days; the horizon's edge seemed to melt everything together, the heat rising from the road and dirt making what was ahead seem hazy and undeterminable.

A few crows gathered in the brush off to the side of the road, screeching and cawing as they circled the area warily. Lifeless black bodies of crows were littered in the dirt, some half consumed by the insects that made it their job to help the decomposition process along. They were the first to find the body, now barely recognizable as a young visiting nurse - all that was left now was a pile of picked-clean bones. She'd died long before her body collapsed in the brush, and moved no longer. The birds found her and made meals of her already mottled flesh for days before they fell from the sky, feathers falling away, and never moved again. One of the crows perched up on the electrical line, beak stretched open in a warning call to its brethren.

The dull roar of a motor approaching fast on the asphalt sent the birds flying off, screeching their protests only to have a screaming engine dull them. It flew right past the copse of brush, disturbing only the birds still attempting to make a meal out of the scraps of flesh still on the girl. It's a newer-model Hundai, a larger vehicle that could effectively seat around five if two-thirds of the car wasn't packed with survival gear and food. As it was, there were only two occupants of the car: a driver and a passenger, both of whom were eerily silent as they picked up speed along the road. U2's "Sunday Bloody Sunday" was playing from an old mix CD in the player, lyrics whispering just above the sound of the engine.

"Don't push the fucking engine, you idiot," the passenger growled, low and _very_ agitated. He gripped the inside of the car door tightly.

"We've still got a few gallons left," the driver snapped, remaining stony-faced despite the obvious tension in his body.

"The warning light went on _hours_ ago."

"Not even two," the driver corrected testily. "These models get excellent gas mileage."

"I don't care, we're stopping as soon as we see something."

The driver didn't answer, but the tightening in his jaw and his grip on the steering wheel betrayed his own frustration. They'd been traveling for too long, and had been confined to the car for too many hours together – partners though they might be, only a tentative and brittle truce kept them from killing each other every day.

As it was, the driver – tall and lanky, a man seemingly built out of sharp angles and cutting words and twitchy, nervous movement – wasn't sure what exactly made him turn back around for his current companion. Axel – that was this rather agitated and pensive man's name – knew he had a reputation for going looking for trouble, but he wasn't a masochist. At least on most days. Axel shook his head, closing bright green eyes and ignoring the few strands of vibrant, fire-engine red hair that fell loose from the dirty braid holding the rest back. He was caked in dirt and grime and sweat, courtesy of the complete lack of running water or showers they'd found along their route for the last two weeks – and Axel wasn't about to start using their reserve water.

Axel liked to think sometimes that his companion was a stray he'd picked up in some no-name town, a boy with no distinctive features or even a name that he could kick out of the car at any point in time, no guilt or second thoughts. But he knew Roxas, knew him well enough to know that if he did try to kick him out Roxas would hunt him down and beat his skull in, and then take the car without a second glance.

Roxas was shorter and not as thin, but no less dangerous than Axel. Lank blond hair hung over his forehead, a far cry from the impeccably styled hair Axel remembered; he had eyes that were blue like the deep parts of oceans and a voice that could ring just as cold. Axel can remember a time when it warmed in his presence, bright and laughing sharply – now the warmth is gone, along with everything else they might have become. Then again, the Roxas he preferred to remember wouldn't have allowed himself to go this long without a shower, or would have kept an old wifebeater with dried blood on it to wear.

The drive is silent for a little while as Axel studiously ignores the flashing red light signaling the end of the gas – the literal end, there's no extra canister in the back seat of the car to use in case of an emergency like this. Then Roxas sat up higher in his seat and reached for the wheel, threatening to take it but not really meaning it. "Pull over," he hissed, allowing the desperation to creep into his tone. "There's a house up here, pull over. These folks might have a bit extra."

Axel turned the wheel, pulling the car off the main road as they approached the house – a one-story looking rather desolate surrounded by absolutely nothing. The grass was dead, the house itself looked abandoned, but there was a pickup truck out in the side yard that seemed like an opportunity. There was a shed out in back as well. The car rolled to a stop in the driveway, with Axel staring out at the structure all the way. "Might be empty. They may have been hit," he added with a grim frown.

Roxas unbuckled his seat belt, grabbing one of the surgical masks he kept around and a large, heavy tire iron. "Never know until we take a look. Maybe they've got some running water."

Axel got out the car, still eyeing it warily. "Suppose we'll see," he said, pulling the elastic string of his own surgical mask over his head. They weren't sure if the sickness was airborne yet – could never be too careful. Axel grabbed his handgun from the pocket between their seats and followed the blond up to the door. Only the dull hum of insects greeted their ears.

Roxas leaned over and tried to peek inside the windows for any signs of movement. "Nothing," he said, frowning slightly. "No movement inside."

Axel knocked loudly, fist pounding on the door. "Hello?" he called, putting his ear closer to the door. When he could only hear the faint sounds of crows in the distance, Axel shrugged and jimmied the door. Finding the lock weak, he shoved his shoulder against the door and sent it flying.

The interior of the house was dark, and the floorboards creaked under their feet as they carefully made their way inside. They crossed directly into the living room, where the furniture seemed pretty disheveled, like it had been shoved aside in a hurry.

Roxas sniffed the air and grimaced. "Something's dead."

Axel followed suit and made a barely-contained retching noise. "I'll second that. Question is, is it mobile?"

Roxas didn't immediately dignify the question with an answer, but reaffirmed his grip on the tire iron. "Check all the rooms, I guess."

The kitchen and dining room were both clean (other than the layer of dust and the unwashed dishes in the sink), as was the bathroom. To their dismay the water had been shut off, so there was no shower to take advantage of. A small child's bedroom revealed only a colorful teddy bear with a few brown stains, and that the bed itself had been slept in some time ago; there was an eerie stillness that had creeped into every corner of the house, freezing even the tiny dust particles caught in the sparse sunbeams peaking through the blinds.

"Roxas," Axel called warily from down the hall, in front of the master bedroom. The blond felt his heart leap in his throat and start hammering wildly. Something obviously wasn't kosher with the situation.

"Yeah," he answered quietly.

"Think I found the source of the smell," Axel answered simply.

Roxas came to stand beside Axel and grimaced again. He was used to bodies though, and it was only the adrenaline rushing through his veins and making him loopy that made this one any different. It was a woman, mid to late thirties, curled up on the bed. She'd been dead for at least two weeks, Roxas estimated based on decomposition.

"Think she's a walker?" Axel asked, nudging him.

"Nope," Roxas responded definitively. "She blew her own brains out," he offered as explanation, gesturing to the revolver in her hand, the entry wound beneath her chin, and the dried blood and brain matter that stained the headboard and wall.

Axel immediately relaxed. "Well then. I say we check the truck and the shed, see if she's got any extra gas she never got around to using."

"That bedroom over there belonged to a little kid," Roxas noted, heading towards the door. "Think maybe someone took her?"

Axel shrugged again. "Maybe Mommy dearest was infected, had Dad take the kid before shit went down."

"Maybe," Roxas conceded.

The truck was bone-dry, and had no extra canisters stored in the back. Then Axel pointed out the shed behind the house. "My dad would have put any extra gas back there. Shall we?"

"Seeing as we're stuck here otherwise, yes," Roxas chided.

As they got closer, Roxas' ears picked up on an out-of-place sound and stopped dead.

"What's wrong with you?"

Roxas stared straight ahead at the shed doors. "I heard something."

"Well I didn't-"

"You listen to your iPod too loud, you're half deaf," Roxas cut him off caustically. "I heard something . . . rattle."

"Let's not get into what either person is or isn't," Axel grumbled, pushing him forward. "You said it yourself, we have to get some gas if we're going to keep going."

"Fuck you," Roxas hissed acidly. When they got closer, the sound happened again – this time though, Roxas noticed that there was a chain holding the two sides of the door closed, which was the source of the rattling. Roxas stopped abruptly again and narrowed his eyes as he was sure he'd seen the doors move, like there was something inside just itching to get out.

The doors were chained together hastily for a reason.

And this time, Axel noticed too. "Shit," he whispered.

"We need gas," Roxas reminded him, steeling himself and closing the distance even more despite the thudding of his heart in his throat.

They were within feet of the chained doors when whatever was inside shoved them open enough for them to see an eye peering out from the dark, wide and gray from decay, surrounded by mottled skin the spoke of infection. Then the doors closed again, and a rattling moan made its way to Roxas' ears.

Axel cursed, disengaging the safety on his handgun. Roxas reached towards the chain wrapped around the door handles, swallowing and doing his best to ignore the intensified movements of the door and the moan of the infected. Gray fingers, complete with black, bloody nails, curled around the edge of the door, exploring.

Roxas pulled the chain away, and with it gone one door was pushed open to reveal what was a young girl in a dirty, stained sundress. Her eyes were dead and staring but unseeing, mouth tightening in a way that gave Roxas the chills; if she got close enough she'd rip into them, he knew it. Sores and open wounds covered her body, though the one responsible for her predicament seemed to be on her forearm. She went right for Axel, plodding with grim intent as she raised her arms to grab at him.

"Axel," Roxas growled warningly, watching the little dead girl warily as he raised his tire iron.

After the briefest of hesitations – who gets used to shooting people point-blank fast, anyway? - Axel raised his gun and fired one shot after a brief hesitation; there was a small choking sound as the dead girl fell back, brain destroyed, never to rise again.

Roxas was breathing deeply, trying to calm his heart rate. An encounter with an infected person was _not _something he was used to yet. "Gasoline," he prompted Axel, clearing his throat.

Axel pulled a flashlight from his belt and held it up to see inside the dark shed. He stepped over the downed child, ignoring her completely as he crept inside, shining the light into all of the corners in the cluttered building. A dusty lawnmower, gardening and planting tools, children's toys, bikes – all were stored inside the shed. Finally Roxas spotted a few gasoline containers; he grabbed them and, after testing their weight and deeming them full, Roxas lugged them out of the shed quickly. Seeing nothing else usable, Axel followed him close behind with another container.

"This should last us for a bit," Roxas commented as he filled the tank with the new gas. "As long as you don't overdo the engines."

Axel snorted, rolling his eyes discreetly. "The Rockies aren't that far. We should start seeing other people, maybe a camp here or there."

Once Roxas finished filling the gas tank he stored the remaining gas in the back of the car and got into the passenger seat. Axel let the engine roar to life once more and followed the path of the setting sun while Roxas took out his notebook and began to write.

Thirty-nine hash marks were carved into the inside cover of the notebook; it had been thirty-nine days since Roxas encountered the man from the morgue plotting towards him, since he'd found himself indebted to his ex-boyfriend. If he tried really hard to recall the news from the weeks beforehand, he'd remember that it had been about fifty-six since the first reports of an unknown, unprecedented strain of a virus associated with a blood cancer.

As the world disintegrated around them, Roxas took his notes and Axel pressed the pedal to the floor, all while reciting the zombie survival guide in his head.


	2. Part 1

Title: Count the Days

Pairing: Axel/Roxas

Warnings: zombies, violence, language, sex, things of a disturbing nature, reckless optimism  
>Rating: MR  
>AN: Primarily inspired by the TV series "The Walking Dead" and the novels _World War Z_ and _The Road. _Happy AkuRoku day, all!  
>Disclaimer: I don't own Kingdom Hearts, but I do get a kick out of writing for the fandom.<p>

**Summary: **Roxas counts the days, makes little marks in his notebook to keep track of how long the dead have walked and how long he and Axel have been traveling.

Part 1

Sometimes when Roxas dozes off in the passenger seat beside Axel, he dreams. Usually his dreams involve dark corridors, florescent lights flickering sporadically above his head as he runs. There's the occasional vaulting over gurneys left in the hallway that tunes him into the fact that _something_ – his dream self never, _ever_ wants to look back and see – is following him, is closing in and hunting him. Sometimes, in the dreams, he slips in a pool of blood and other sundry formerly human-shaped pieces parts. Sparks fly at him as breakers explode, and with each soaring stride the hallway behind him grows dark. He knows the way instinctively, had walked these halls for countless hours on end during his shifts enough to know exactly what turns to make and just how fast he could take the corner into the OR – but these halls prove different, seem never-ending and never end where they are supposed to so Roxas keeps on running and not looking back.

Other times he dreams of a horrific train accident, the screams of steel and iron as two giants collide and rain destruction, metal pieces and burning debris coating the grass. He vividly remembers the EMT's face, the handsome features and light brown eyes of the man as he handed one of the train victims over to Roxas' care, remembers the grip of his hand and the smell of sweat. Then he remembers what the man looked like dead, eyes blank and blood oozing from the gaping hole in his abdomen, his body unmoving amid numerous others. Roxas dreams, mentally counting off the dozens and dozens of injuries he saw that horrific day, how fevers and swift-moving blood infections killed most of the patients who hadn't already died of their mysterious injuries. Family members descend like locusts and tear into him verbally and physically, wondering how he'd let his patients die.

In another dream he wakes up to a warm and comfortable bed, breathing in the scent of sex and traces of cologne; all is quiet and the moment seems untouchable. The sheets were blue and soft, undamaged. That is, until something grabs his shoulder and he feels teeth rip into him and tear him apart, spattering blood all over the bed.

All of Roxas' dreams usually find an abrupt end when Axel smacks him with his trusty zombie survival guide, one hand steady on the steering wheel and the other poised to smack him again.

Axel doesn't like it when Roxas dreams – mostly because if it's a bad one, he'll shock Axel to the high heavens with an untimely frightened shout. But Axel also doesn't like thinking about how vulnerable he looks (tire iron be damned) sleeping in the seat beside him.

0o0

They're about three days' worth of distance from the shed with the little girl in it, with the Rockies slowly rising seemingly out of the desert when they come across a very freshly dead horse on the side of the road.

"No bite marks that I can see," Roxas observed shrewdly as he leaned out the passenger side window. "There's a saddle and bridle, but he wasn't the healthiest horse when he died. "

"What, you think someone was riding him all the way out here and he keeled over?" Axel asked, still agitated that they were wasting time looking at a dead horse.

"I'm no vet, but I can take a guess," Roxas grumbled in return. "Not like there's anything to graze or drink out here, he was probably sick or starving already."

"Now that your curiosity has been settled," Axel muttered, reaching over and grabbing the back of Roxas' shirt to pull him back in the car, "let's go."

Roxas sat back down and shoved Axel's hand away. "Keep your fucking hands to your fucking self," he snarled.

Axel's hand retracted, moving as though he'd been burned by Roxas' touch.

Roxas seemed determined to ignore that reaction; he folded his arms across his chest

"Drive," Roxas grumbled, ignoring the disgruntled expression on Axel's face entirely.

There was a sigh from the driver's seat, then nothing more as he pressed the gas pedal down and continued down the lonely road.

0o0

It was only a few hours later, as the afternoon sun started to peak, when they caught up to something else on the road.

There was a figure walking alongside it.

Roxas felt his blood freeze and his breath catch, automatic reactions to the possibility of yet another walking corpse that had been developed in a short period of time. The anticipation always caught up with him first, and then the fear and adrenaline caught up moments later. Axel slowed the car just slightly, watching the figure intently and assessing quietly from his side of the vehicle.

"It's a walker," Axel hissed, reaching for his gun.

Roxas didn't respond, watching the figure carefully as they approached. The figure was tall, on the gangly side, and had a backpack strapped across its shoulders. The gait was all wrong too; a walker usually stumbled and lurched across the ground, arms hanging useless at its side. This person's gait was deliberate and quick, arms swinging for greater momentum. Minutes later the arm closest to the road rose and extended a raised thumb, the time-honored request for a lift. "No, it's not," he said, rejecting Axel's theory. "It's a person. Stop the car, dickhead!"

"You know, Roxas," Axel hissed, pressing on the brake slowly, "If you keep making me stop I _will_ kick you to the curb."

"No, you won't," Roxas responded confidently, rolling the window down. His tire iron was in his lap, just in case he happened to be wrong.

The figure walking alongside the road was a young man, mid-twenties if Roxas guessed, with long dirt-caked hair. In fact his entire self, skin and clothes alike, were covered in dirt, reminding Roxas vaguely of chinchillas and their frequent dust baths. He tilted his head wearily and met Roxas' critical gaze evenly with a set of aquamarine eyes that stood out brilliantly against the dust.

"Can you give me a lift?" the young man asked warily.

"Clean bill of health?"

Roxas received a nod in response. "Absolutely."

"You mind getting checked over?" Axel butted in brusquely. When Roxas made to interject on the other man's behalf, Axel shouted over him. "NO ONE," he yelled forcefully, putting his hand on the gun carefully situated in one of the open storage compartments in the dash, "GETS IN THIS CAR UNTIL WE KNOW."

Roxas fell into brief silence. This was true; they'd learned the hard way not to just let anyone in on faith alone. "Sorry, he's right."

The young man shrugged. "Whatever you want," he said, dropping his backpack and peeling his dirt-caked shirt off as Roxas hopped out of the car.

Roxas checked him over, making sure he had no cuts or open wounds that might have been bite marks; he checked the other man's eyes and pulse, and everything seemed normal. None of the signs Roxas knew of were present and he had no open wounds, which meant that the man was clean. "Was that your horse back there?" he asked as the other put his shirt back on.

"Yup. Well, he belonged to a neighbor of mine. Got himself killed, so when I decided to skip town I just took the horse. Didn't think I'd end up all the way out here."

After a quick nonverbal exchange with Axel, Roxas nodded towards the second row of seats behind them. "Should be some space back there, hop in. Where'd you think you _would_ end up?"

The other man snorted as he got into the back seat of their car, shoving some of their supplies over to make some more room. "Probably dead by now. Just got lucky so far. So . . . who are you guys?"

"I'm Roxas," he answered. "This is Axel," he said, indicating to the redhead who gave the newcomer a curt nod before stepping on the gas pedal. "You?"

"Riku."

"Welcome aboard, Riku," Roxas quipped, sitting forward in his seat once more as Axel barreled down the road.

"Looks like you guys were ready in advance," Riku commented about five minutes later, clearing his throat as he glanced around at the supplies packed up tightly in the car.

"_Axel_ planned in advance."

"You always plan ahead for the apocalypse?"

Axel frowned, shifting in the drivers' seat. "No."

"He's paranoid. Always has been."

"My paranoia saved your ass, remember?" Axel said sharply. "Lucky _I _was ready. You should have listened to me," he added off-hand.

Roxas turned his head slowly to glare at the side of Axel's face. "You just can't let that go, can you?"

"See," Axel said loudly, ignoring Roxas. "He thought I was crazy. Now lucky for Roxas here I had the courtesy to go back and rescue him before he got himself killed."

"Ummm," Riku murmured, sounding disinterested.

"You think I'm a helpless little bitch?" Roxas spat, baring his teeth in a way that probably should have alarmed Axel. "I would have figured something out, I'm not stupid."

"You were hiding in a fucking-"

"Excuse me," Riku piped in, clearing his throat. "Don't go driving off the road now."

Axel shut his mouth abruptly, righting the car on the road again.

"Fucker," Roxas growled under his breath. "If you crash the car I will _destroy_ you."

The redhead gritted his teeth against a biting retort and shook his head slowly.

"So," Riku started. "I take it there's some history here, but I'm honestly not really interesting in what's going on between the two of you. I've got some people I need to find, and if you fuck that up I _will_ make use of the taser in my bag and leave you both here while I drive off into the sunset. Now, I really don't want to do that because I generally think of myself as a good person, but I will if I need to."

Axel and Roxas both went silent; the redhead leveled a wary look at the silver-haired man sitting in the back seat, who glared back at him.

"Whatever," Axel grumbled, driving on.

Suddenly Roxas frowned. "Do tasers work on the dead?" he asked curiously, wrinkling his nose and brows in thought.

Riku shrugged. "Haven't been able to try it yet on the walkers – but probably not. I've got a gun or two for them – the taser is for the living."

Axel shifted uncomfortably. "Oh. You often go around tasing people? Because seriously – don't tase me, bro."

Silence permeated the car, aside from the sound of Axel chuckling softly to himself. When no one else joined in, Axel laughter stalled and he chanced a glance over at Roxas and at Riku in the rearview mirror. Roxas was staring at him with a withering scowl that clearly meant his attempt at humor wasn't quite appreciated from the passenger seat. After a moment of that disgusted look Roxas turned to look back at the road, shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

Riku cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Moving on," Axel muttered quietly, hedging away from Roxas minutely in case the blond lashed out.

"I keep it in case someone tries to rob me on the road," Riku started, deciding to ignore the failed attempt at humor. "People do stupid shit when the world starts to burn, I don't intend to survive the zombie apocalypse only to have the living try to take me out."

Roxas nodded in understanding. "You raid one of those police supply stores?"

"Nah," Riku snorted. The basement of the police station was being set up like a bunker before it failed miserably. When I took off I grabbed what I could, that's all."

"We're headed for the Rocky Mountain camps, if that's all well and good with you," Axel said, clearing his throat.

"It's as good a place to start as any," Riku responded on an exhalation.

0o0

It's another day before the dry land gives way to trees near the base of the mountains, and the forest grew thicker with each passing moment. Axel drove them deeper and deeper along the road into the woods until sunlight grew faint and he decided to call it a day's drive and camp for the night. Roxas could already feel himself succumbing to the lure of sleep, unconsciousness tugging at his mind after a long, tiring day on the road.

"Tomorrow," Riku said, "we should go see if we can find a water source. There has to be one nearby. Then we can wash up."

"You know, I was doing my hardest to ignore the smell of sweat and body odor that is more or less permeating my car," Axel murmured testily, "but thanks for reminding me of that."

Roxas shoved him in response. "It's a good idea, shut your mouth. You're just mad you didn't suggest it. Grow up and get some rest," he said with finality, curling up in his seat after making sure his door was locked. Axel and Riku soon followed suit, snapping back and forth at each other mildly for a short while. The lights were all turned off to keep from attracting the dead if they were nearby – Roxas thought briefly that if they'd spread this far, the world was farther gone than could be helped. The Rockies, from the last few radio transmissions they heard, were supposed to be safer. Roxas fell asleep with his stomach grumbling, but it was a sensation he'd grown used to over the last several weeks. But the cramped quarters and constant bickering were enough to drive him absolutely crazy – he had half a mind to get out of the car and just sleep in a tree or something.

The next morning he woke up with a crick in his neck and stiff muscles courtesy of sleeping curled up in the passenger seat – he was used to it to a certain degree now, but it was still a pain in the ass to try and work out all the kinks in his neck. Mornings like this made him miss his home . . . and his own bed.

The car was empty; after a quick glance out the window, he saw Riku and Axel working and building up a small fire just outside the car. Roxas yawned and unlocked the car door, sliding out and stretching in the cool morning air. Mist pooled near the treetops, and the ground felt soft beneath his shoes.

"Morning," Axel said, putting the finishing touches on the fire.

Roxas grunted in response, mid-stretch as he reached as high as he could and leaned back just slightly. Finally he responded with a grudging "morn'ng."

"Sleep well?"

"Fuck'ff," Roxas grumbled.

"Don't mind him, he's like this every morning," Axel said to Riku, rolling his eyes.

"I'm going to go do a scan of the area," Roxas said without much ceremony as he went back to the car and pulled out his tire iron.

"You just got up," Axel countered. "Sure that's a good idea?

"Shut up," Roxas snarled, stalking past the fire.

"Don't get lost," Axel said without looking up.

"Don't take the car," Roxas threatened, pointing his chosen weapon in Axel's general direction briefly before turning on his heel and stalking into the forest.

"It's my fucking car," Axel reminded him.

Five seconds later a pinecone nailed him in the back of his head; he twisted around to shout something angrily at Roxas, but the blond had already disappeared into the thick brush, now totally ensconced by trees. Axel scowled at the pines instead before turned his focus back on the flames he and Riku had cultivated before Roxas woke from his slumber.

"You got anything to eat in all that survival gear?" Riku asked warily.

"Yeah," Axel responded belatedly, sounding far off in his own world as he spoke. "I'll go get something."

After rummaging in the back of the car for several minutes, Axel came back with a couple bottles of V8 and some dry cereal.

"Breakfast?" Riku prompted with a raised eyebrow.

"Of champions," Axel finished, offering the other man a V8, which Riku declined. "Or at least, that's what I try to tell Roxas. All the vitamins, minerals and vegetables you could ever want in a beverage. And I like Cheerios."

"If you don't mind me saying, Riku said casually, taking a sip of his water bottle, "it doesn't really seem like you guys are the ideal traveling team."

Axel snorted. "Probably not. But we've known each other for a long time."

"College roommates, high school buddies?" Riku prompted.

"Exes," Axel corrected. "We were together for almost a year."

"I see."

Axel raised an eyebrow.

"You're traveling with your ex-boyfriend? And you haven't killed each other yet?"

For a moment, Axel considered this fact. Then he burst into laughter that bore a tinge of bitterness to it. "It's pretty surprising now that I think about it."

Riku frowned slightly. "You said you went back to save him," he reminded him soberly. "When the sickness started."

"Of course I did," Axel retorted, feeling slightly offended. "Look – it may seem like we want to kill each other most of the time, and maybe that's partially true. But I'd never wish anything bad on him – no matter how many times he pisses me off. I loved him, and even if we're not together anymore I'd still want to keep him safe. I know he hates that I came back, came looking for him, but how could I not? Maybe he thinks I'm trying to guilt him into coming back with me, but that's not it at all."

"You were worried about him," Riku muttered, pushing around a couple of Cheerios in his hand.

"Yeah," Axel said, surprising even himself with the conviction in his tone. "And he still hates me."

Riku shrugged. "Yet, you haven't met your untimely end – and Roxas seems like the kind of person who isn't afraid to do it if he feels it's necessary."

Axel didn't answer; he was focused on the hypnotic dance of the fire as he prodded the firewood with a smaller stick. "What about you? You're looking for some people?"

"Two friends," Riku answered, shifting to a crouch. "When things started to go wrong, after I broke out of the police station bunker, I went right for their college in Pennsylvania. Everything was chaos, and they were already gone. They must've left and headed for the Rockies like us, like the rest of the country supposedly is."

"How do you know?"

Riku turned and gave Axel a hard stare. "They'd _packed_. Things were missing, important things neither of them would ever leave behind. That and the message one of them scrawled on the wall of their apartment saying they'd definitely find me somewhere along the way."

"No offense," Axel said as carefully and non-mocking as possible, "but I think your friends sound a little bit crazy."

"Maybe. But we're all . . ." Riku trailed off abruptly, his face falling as the rest of his body tensed. Bright, aquamarine eyes widened and flickered to the woods that surrounded them.

"What," Axel prompted, reaching for his gun.

"Can you here that?" Riku asked, voice just barely above a whisper.

Axel's brow furrowed, listening for what Riku was freaking out about. But there was nothing, no suspicious sounds, only the crackle of the fire in front of them-

Nothing.

"You hear it now?" Riku muttered, standing. "Something's wrong."

He was right, Axel reasoned in his head while his brain churned at hundreds of miles per hour. There were no birds chirping, no animals carefully making their way across the forest floor – everything seemed abnormally still and empty, devoid of life and everything except for death. Something was very wrong, indeed.

In the distance someone fired a shotgun, sending the birds – which had been perched motionlessly in the trees, Axel assumed – into a panic as they flew away as fast as possible. Two more shots went off, and someone screamed.

Axel could only think of one thing.

He was up and moving before Riku even had a chance to process what was going on; there was a gun in the waistband of Axel's jeans within seconds as he vaulted into the forest at top speed with Riku shouting after him, leaping over fallen logs and hoping to the higher powers he didn't know the person who screamed. As he practically flew through the deep woods, a man with silver hair trailing behind him, Axel found himself muttering, "Please, please please be ok, be safe," repeatedly under his breath.


	3. Part 2

**Title**: Count the Days

**Pairing**: Axel/Roxas

**Warnings**: zombies, violence, language, sex, things of a disturbing nature, reckless optimism  
>Rating: MR  
><strong>AN**: Primarily inspired by the TV series "The Walking Dead" and the novels World War Z and The Road.

**Beta: **the lovely theplumtomato  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: I don't own Kingdom Hearts, but I do get a kick out of writing for the fandom.

**Summary**: Roxas counts the days, makes little marks in his notebook to keep track of how long the dead have walked and how long he and Axel have been traveling. In this chapter, a rescue attempt takes a turn for the worse.

Part 2

Once upon a time, Axel and Roxas were in love. Head over heels, ridiculously in love with each other; things were great – brilliant even. Axel had dreams of moving them to the next state over and getting down on one knee at a rest stop and making a glorious scene, because he liked to see Roxas and their prospective forced audience blush. Once upon a time Axel would have done anything for him, would have killed for Roxas, and Roxas would have done the same.

Once upon a time, Roxas worried about shifts in the ER and when he'd get to see Axel again, after his rotation was over; he worried about rent and what sort of shenanigans Axel was getting into while he was trying to placate a man who insisted his stomach upset was evidence that his wife was trying to get back at him for cheating on her. There were graveyard shifts so dull Axel dropped in with some feigned injury or illness and they retreated to one of the supply closets to amuse themselves.

In the days they both counted as happy in their relationship, both Axel and Roxas enjoyed fighting. It was a way for them to release some tension and get their anger out before one of them had to clear a solid surface off to hold on to. Before the fights took on more serious notes, before the words, once empty, actually started to carry their weight, they were happy.

When it all crumbled beneath their feet, Roxas put his hands up in surrender and walked away.

That should have been the end of them – but then the dead started to walk, and zombies don't really give a flying fuck about what 'should have been' in the first place. Axel came back to find his ex-boyfriend; he pulled him into the car, bleeding and scared out of his fucking mind and put the hospital in their rearview mirror.

0o0

At a full sprint, Axel could feel every muscle in his body curl and release, hear his heart pound against his ribcage. He loved, lived for the feeling of flying, soaring over the fallen tree trunks that littered the ground and dodging obstacles all the way. If he closed his eyes Axel probably could have imagined himself back on the university track, surging ahead of the competition at lightning speed. Adrenaline and chemicals flooded into his brain, erasing every other thought aside from Roxas. Roxas was in trouble – again – and nothing, not one deranged dead thing or twenty were going to stand in his way when he could outrun them all.

He saw a few dogs darting in the opposite direction, whining the whole way. They didn't concern him though – they didn't seem to be any danger for the moment. Then he heard someone shouting as he vaulted over a larger trunk – then another quick series of gunshots.

Axel's brain went into overdrive. The gunshot he and Riku had heard before sprinting into the woods was definitely a shotgun.

This was a different gun that sounded more like a thundering pop – it was powerful and loud, and Axel winced. The sound would bring more of the infected to the area; they had to move fast, if Roxas was even in the area.

He didn't want to think about what might happen if Roxas was bolting back towards their camp instead.

As he bounded over and around trees, he began to see the outlines of a couple tents and a camper over the brush. Axel pulled to a stop, ducking behind another tree as he tried to catch his breath. Riku caught up moments later; his eyes widened as he caught something over the bushes Axel hadn't. Someone in the camp was still shouting, but they were quickly cut off with a strangled sound – and then all that was left were the moans of the dead.

When he realized that Riku was still entranced by something, he gave in. "What is it?" Axel whispered agitatedly.

Riku continued to stare, his vision tilted upwards as he mouthed the words 'What the fuck?'

"What is it?" Axel hissed again.

Riku's gaze flickered over to him only briefly before returning to whatever caught his attention. He was frowning now, confused and maybe slightly amused. Another low moan caught their attention; Axel stiffened and Riku pulled his own handgun out, peering over the obstructions at the scene. Riku jerked his head towards the campsite, grimacing and holding up five fingers.

Shit.

Axel darted to crouch beside Riku and looked up at the spot Riku had been staring at quizzically.

"What the actual fuck?" Axel muttered in the general direction of Roxas and the tree he was perched in, high above the carnage of the campsite.

Riku stifled a snort. Roxas, from his perch on the tree's limb, grimaced and mouthed very clearly 'Keep your mouth shut.'

Axel shook his head and pulled his gun from his jeans. Roxas must have heard the same sounds they had, and tried to make it back – but instead got stuck in a tree like an overconfident house cat. For the moment, he was safe. They could deal with him later.

All five infected were huddled around the remains of a body; Axel grimaced, trying to block out the disgusting sounds of ripping flesh and the sounds of their chewing, as well as the already-stripped femur (attached to a still-intact sneaker) tossed to the side. He felt the bile threaten to rise up in his throat, felt himself gag and held the rest down.

Riku shoved Axel to the side and took aim, firing just as one of the infected raised its head. The shot hit its intended target, sending pieces of the skull, brain and blood flying. Slowly, the others began to get up too.

Another anguished moan, this one coming from a different direction, signaled the arrival of more. Roxas, high up in his tree, had the sense to at least look alarmed.

Suddenly, there were too many. Too many coming out of the shadows of the forest, out of the corner of Axel's eye, from the campsite, all clambering for the newest offering of fresh meat and all hell broke loose.

Axel fell into a pattern, something like 'aim shoot dodge, aim shoot dodge' that eventually degenerated into SHOOT ANYTHING THAT MOVES while he still had ammunition to spare. He tried to get some distance between himself and the dead so he could take better shots, finding he was sorely missing a short-range weapon like Roxas' tire iron. At some point he tripped and took a tumble over one of the downed branches and landed hard on something – all he could feel was the sharp, intense pain in his right upper arm for a few moments until he kept moving, bullets shattering skulls and brains and bursting blood everywhere.

Somewhere along the way Roxas must have climbed down from his tree perch and joined the fray, swinging the heavy tire iron in wide arcs and deliberate blows. Riku was elsewhere, Axel could hear his gun going off somewhere nearby.

And somehow, they managed to make it out alive. All the walkers' skulls were smashed in one way or the other, and everything seemed to have quieted down – save for the skull-bashing Roxas was in the process of finishing up. Axel got up, wiping blood off of himself with his shirt, and nodded to Riku, who was rummaging through some of the supplies the dead man had.

"Ammunitions?" he asked, breathing heavily. Riku nodded.

"Shotgun shells, some for .45s, couple others. We'll bring the lot in."

"That's some luck," Axel chuckled. "Hey Rox-"

"Axel," the blond's voice snapped, making Axel frown.

"What?" he responded a little testily, turning to face his ex-boyfriend.

Roxas was staring at him – and not in a way that made him particularly happy. Axel could remember a time when just a look from Roxas – a specific one that usually accompanied some form of undressing with the eyes – could turn him into a pile of goo. It had been a long time since he'd seen that look, and it didn't seem like he'd be getting it again anytime soon. The blond was staring at him with hard eyes now, narrowed and focused.

"What?" Axel grumbled, wiping the blood spatter from his neck.

"You have a lot of blood on you," Roxas responded warily. "All over."

"I do?"

"All over your face," Roxas said, holding his tire iron at his side. "There's a cut on your arm." He was watching him with a dark expression Axel didn't like at all. Not one bit.

"Roxas," he said carefully.

"Did they get you?"

"What the – no!" Axel sputtered. The cut was just a cut. Just a cut, not a scratch, nothing.

"Give me your gun."

"Wha-NO!"

"Give it to me," Roxas hissed, holding his hand out. "NOW."

"What's the problem?" Riku asked.

"Axel's been compromised," Roxas shouted. "Open wound and he's covered in blood."

Riku took aim without even blinking. "What do you want to do?"

"Roxas," Axel pleaded, putting his hands up in a placating gesture. He was covered in blood, sweat and grime; he felt pathetic, trying to reach the person he knew inside Roxas that still understood mercy. That was the man he knew and loved, beautiful and radiant as light itself and just as forgiving – he was the person Axel needed. "Roxas, please," he whispered, leaning down slowly to put his handgun down carefully.

"It'd be stupid to kill him if we didn't need to. The virus – bacteria, contagion, whatever – needs time to mature. If he's infected, the sickness will kill him first. We wait. Axel, the keys," Roxas beckoned urgently.

Axel reached into his pocket and pulled them out, tossing them over to the blond. Then Roxas darted over and grabbed the gun from the ground.

"Let's go." Axel led the way back to the car, with both Roxas and Riku behind him; their weapons were drawn just in case they were ambushed, but just the same Axel's heart was in his throat the whole walk back as he hoped for their mercy.

The campsite was cleaned up immediately on their return. The fire had destroyed what food Axel and Riku had been hoping to eat, so Riku just kicked dirt over the whole thing. "Car's open," he said, checking the perimeter for anything moving.

Roxas nodded at Axel, then towards the car. "Get in." Axel obeyed.

Roxas sat in the back seat with Axel, sitting cross-legged and staring at Axel like he was mapping every pore and line in his skin. The handgun was in his lap, seemingly harmless for a killing instrument but in Roxas' hands . . . Axel knew better. He knew Roxas wasn't afraid to shoot if he had to.

The drive was unbearably tense as Riku maneuvered them out of the forest and back onto open roads; Riku was staring into the rearview mirror more than he was the road, and with Axel too anxious and stressed to really do much aside from sweat profusely Roxas was left to glare and double-triple-quadruple check that his gun was loaded and ready just in case. The lower half of the blond's face was now covered by one of his masks.

The tension started to eat at Axel first. He was sweating sitting in the back seat with no air flow, made even worse by the grim specter of possible death sitting not two feet from him, wearing his ex-boyfriend's face.

"I, uh," Axel cleared his dry and scratchy throat, his gaze darting briefly over to Roxas. "I didn't expect this."

"None of us did," Roxas responded blankly.

"Why am I not dead yet?"

Roxas bristled, fiddling with the gun in his lap. "Because I'd rather not kill when I don't have to."

"You could always put the gun away, you know."

Something came over Roxas in that moment – a shadow, hardening behind his eyes – that gave Axel pause.

"I asked you the same thing, remember?" Axel went cold.

"That was different," he said carefully, feeling himself tread dangerously. "We didn't know – I was fucking scared, Rox. I was scared and didn't know what to do."

"And you sat there in that drivers' seat," Roxas continued in the same cool, hard tone. "You sat there and kept this gun trained on me – just in case."

"I didn't know how to tell if you were sick," Axel pleaded. "I didn't want to kill you. We were all fucking freaked-"

"Don't," Roxas cut him off forcefully. "Don't try to justify yourself. I know you were scared shitless, we all were. Hell, you think I wasn't? I had no idea what was happening. You just showed up, grabbed me, and made me sit and wait until you decided to pull the trigger. I didn't want to sleep, because I was afraid if I snored I'd surprise you and you'd shoot. I thought maybe you'd finally lost it."

Axel's expression hardened slightly. "I wouldn't do that to you."

"You did," Roxas answered simply. "You did, and now you're going to sit there and wait until we see if you've been infected, damn it."

Axel didn't move much after that, his eyes glaring at the menacing piece of metal in Roxas' lap.

0o0

There were a few things about Axel that gave him a distinct advantage in this whole zombie apocalypse mess, Roxas had mused darkly on several occasions – most recently now, as he watched Axel's face and behavior for signs of infection with Axel's own gun sitting in his lap.

The first of these being his long legs. When they were first getting to know each other Axel had told him he'd been a cross-country runner and medal-winning sprinter; Roxas believed this without a single doubt. He'd seen Axel run in a full-blown sprint, his long legs carrying him several feet at a time and allowing him to thoroughly outpace walkers by a long shot. Whether it was an overabundance of adrenaline in his system or PowerThirst in his bloodstream, it didn't really matter. Axel could run, and he had ridiculous levels of stamina to keep that pace. Granted, Axel wasn't a rising track star any more so the actual limits of such stamina hadn't been tested in a while – but it made all the difference.

The second advantage Axel had was something that had been a hindrance for many years – his paranoia. Paranoia had saved his life even; he was the one stockpiling food and gear for the moment the shit hit the fan, long before the government made any official announcements about what was happening. His paranoia, even now, kept him from getting into too many dangerous situations and had probably saved their asses more times than Roxas was prepared to admit.

The third advantage Axel had was that he was fucking crazy. Despite his paranoia Axel had few actual inhibitions, which gave him almost free reign to do as he fucking pleased. Some people hem and haw and question the existence of the zombies until one's chewing on their bicep – some people wail about how God cursed humanity with this plague to punish his wayward children – some people have paralyzing panic attacks just thinking about the dead walking, denying their existence until the very end.

And some people look at a walker – look at an animated, decomposing corpse with gnashing teeth and bloodshot eyes and sallow skin, or see a zombie crouched over the body of their next door neighbor, shoving bloody bits into their rotten mouths – and say, "okay." Some people accept their existence, no questions asked. They accept, they prepare, and they are ready – and they won't go down without a vicious fight.

Axel was a member of the latter, and as far as Roxas was concerned, of the three of them Axel had the largest chances of making it out alive.

He wasn't supposed to go down this road – Axel was supposed to be a survivor. Roxas didn't like this at all, and he certainly didn't like more or less holding Axel hostage in the back seat of his own car, but he felt like there wasn't much of a choice. They couldn't be sure whether his wound had been infected with the amount of blood on him, or whether it was a wound directly from a walker. Either option could lead to dire consequences – and Roxas was not prepared to deal with any mistakes. And even those who were supposed to survive made mistakes.

Roxas, as far as he was concerned, didn't have any advantages. He was small and relatively spry to be sure, but he was no long-distance runner by any stretch and his bloodstream was definitely devoid of PowerThirst. Maybe he was a little reckless and overly analytical, but none of that should have given him a leg up in this fucked up world.

When Roxas thought about all of this he realized it was making him feel slightly ill; analyzing their advantages and disadvantages led Roxas to believe that his greatest advantage in the scheme of things was that he had Axel.

Roxas really hoped he didn't have to shoot him.

0o0

Four hours later, Axel still showed no symptoms indicating his infection.

Six hours later, Roxas climbed up to the passenger seat and curled up to sleep and Axel breathed a sigh of relief, shedding silent tears of joy that he'd been spared. Riku seemed to exhale his own tension, practically deflating in the driver's seat when it seemed like that small ordeal was over.

Riku drove north, skirting the foothills of the Rockies until they came to a small stream, exposed enough that they could keep a pretty clear watch for anything that came to pay them a visit.

"Everybody out," he said gruffly. "Decompress, then we'll keep moving." Riku was out of the driver's seat and slamming the door before the other two.

Axel got out of the car and immediately pulled his bloodstained and torn shirt off; it was destroyed beyond all help, and he honestly didn't care that he was going to run out of clothes eventually if he kept up like this. He made a direct line for the clear, cool stream, kneeling by the water's edge and scrubbing the sweat and dried blood from his skin. Axel rubbed his face with his palms, washing his face vigorously. He didn't even realize someone was behind him until he felt a hand smack him upside the head; Axel twisted around with an outraged shout, glaring up at the snarling face of his ex-boyfriend.

"What the flying fuck, Roxas?" he demanded.

"Don't," Roxas growled. "Do that. Again." Roxas held that stare for a moment, then stalked back to the car.

Axel sat there for another few minutes, quietly fuming and sorting through confused thoughts as he rubbed the spot where Roxas' hand had connected. Roxas had been furious, he could tell that much – but he'd been afraid, too. Axel had known Roxas long enough, and well enough, to tell when he was terrified. That threw him for a loop, made his stomach clench – because even though they'd never spoken about how they managed to keep going on together, he knew Roxas depended on him as much as he depended on Roxas, and maybe Axel's brush with death had scared him more than he was letting on.

Axel rose and walked back to the car, leaving his tattered shirt behind. That was when he saw Roxas talking with Riku; Riku was leaning back against the car and Roxas had his back to Axel, with his arms crossed over his chest. As he got closer, Axel felt the beginnings of anger and residual possessiveness from his time with Roxas rise bitterly in his throat; Roxas and Riku were standing rather close together. Too close for Axel's taste. Roxas wouldn't do that, wouldn't try to make a fuck buddy out of someone they'd picked up, not while Axel was still there – would he? Axel's heart sunk into his stomach. Maybe it's nothing, he told himself.

As he approached, Riku slid away from the car and picked the keys out of his pocket, tossing them to Axel. Roxas, he noticed with a pang of rage, stiffened when Riku said Axel's name and got into the car, refusing to otherwise acknowledge him. The redhead gave their newer passenger a fierce glare as he caught the keys, which Riku shrugged off carelessly. Axel scowled and opened the trunk of the car to pull another shirt out; once it was on he climbed into the driver's seat with a sigh.

They drove on further north, car completely silent as its inhabitants maintained the stony quiet. All of that was fine with Axel, who sang the lyrics to Foreigner's 'Cold as Ice' in his head to keep himself amused. In the seat beside him, Roxas scratched away in his notebook, marking another day gone by in hell.


End file.
